


In Red

by smgmcrznana



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Lingerie, M/M, Masturbation, Mirrors, Secrets, Tags to Follow, Work In Progress, exposure of secret, feelings of sadness, feelings of shame, inner turmoil
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-13
Updated: 2017-11-02
Packaged: 2019-01-16 10:26:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,644
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12340839
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smgmcrznana/pseuds/smgmcrznana
Summary: Cor Leonis has a secret that he has kept to himself all of his life. What will happen when a certain Captain accidentally becomes aware of it?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I can't believe a 45 year old side character made me write my first fic ever.

Cor Leonis had always known that he was an attractive man. 

Since his late teens, Cor had gotten compliments and telling looks sent his way by strangers and was aware that people gravitated towards him solely due to his appearance and charisma. He never deliberately sought out the attention of course, but he was flattered and amused. He didn't think much of it, most of the time these moments were just colorful interludes in a hectic life. While Cor wasn't a conceited man, it was true that he cared about his looks and his body. Considering his age, and the stress his body had been put through over the years, he was in fact proud of his body. Sure, it was slightly worn and scarred, but it was still graceful, youthful even. His body was proof of his will and ability to succeed, to push himself to extreme limits. Years of determination and training had made his body capable of extraordinary skills and strength. And he could admit that it was a good looking body if inclined. 

It had always been natural for Cor to walk and stand with a straight posture and confidence never lacked in his movements or voice. Cor made sure he was well put together; hair and beard trimmed to frame his face; clothes complimenting and caressing, rather than hiding or constricting his body. It was as much for his work as it was for his own personal conviction. Combined all these things produced an appealing effect on his tall, lean body that made people take a closer look. 

He never failed to sense when women, or men for that matter, let their eyes linger on him too keenly. It amused him, their reactions when he decided to catch them in the act; some blushed, some flirted, some played dumb, while others apologized profusely or got down right scared.. it all mattered little to him. He knew their attraction to him was based on a version of himself that was different from how he valued his own looks; his own sense of his beauty. Cor reckoned that it was his tallness and build that mostly captivated people's interest, but other parts of his body were subjects of admiration too. Beside his eyes, his cheekbones and jaw were what he was most complimented on. Some would put their finger on his face to run it along his cheek playfully, the more bold ones would stand on their toes and place a kiss on his chin to emphasize their point. And while he was flattered, sometimes slightly aroused even, no one had ever come close to saying the words or touching him in a way that truly made him consider taking up their offers.  


It was the fact that people shamelessly hit on him and yet, he was single, that made Cor Leonis' dating life a recurring subject when he shared a meal with his close friends. While he was younger than most of them, they felt he was missing his opportunity to be happy by not pursuing other people. It was possible after all; Clarus had successfully balanced both family and work for the last twenty years. It was the same routine each time they asked: he would reply that he hadn't the time or the interest currently. Then they would continue to press him further, begging him to take more days off or go on a vacation and Cor would just smile at their sweet worries. Often he thought it easier to tell a white lie and say that he was in fact seeing someone, let that ease their minds a bit, and then say that it didn't work out due to other commitments after some time had passed. Which in a sense was true; Cor's work was often his life. But that wasn't what dulled his relationships or interest in dating if he was being honest. And frankly he didn't understand their concerns, it wasn't the case that he had spent his life alone despite his dedication to his duties and his King. Sure, the relationships in his life had been few, short-lived and far in between, often nothing more than some months of carefree romance before ending slowly, but he had learned his lessons.

The only truly serious relationship in his life he had taken months of deliberation before finally deciding to _hint_ at this particular interest of his, just very slightly and of course, in no manner that would suggest his own feelings on it. In an appropriate conversation, he had asked his girlfriend in a curious tone how she would react if one day she would come home and find him like that. She had taken it as a joke; the always serious, darkly-clad Marshall dressed in women's lingerie? She couldn't stop laughing as it was the silliest thing she had ever heard of. And so Cor let the matter remain a silly joke and continued the relationship silently torn, before they decided to call it quits. After that dating new people became disinteresting as he felt the outcome of any possible relationship would just be a repeat of his previous ones. And while they were filled with sweet memories and he felt nothing but affection towards his previous partners, something had still been missing. When his girlfriend had laughed at his question he knew that that part of him meant more to him than he cared to admit. He had kept it to himself for years as he perceived it to be a private thing, but he couldn't see himself hiding it anymore in order to maintain a relationship again, even if everything else felt right. So, Cor had spent the last five years of his life in solitude save for his duties, and his inner most desire was still a precious secret.

He could admit to feeling alone sometimes. Not loneliness, just missing someone to accompany him, someone to share intimacy and everyday trivialities with. But he knew that if he started dating someone again, these comforts would ultimately be inadequate if his yearning still had to remain hidden. He knew he needed someone to _know_ and _love_ that part of him that he loved best as well. 

In his utmost bared state Cor could admit to a silent desperation too; a need to lash out and curse. Curse that he couldn't forget how his girlfriend had laughed and his surprise at how it hurt. Curse that this was a part of him that he could not hide from lovers anymore, but that he also could not risk exposing it should it prove damaging. Curse that despite what he told himself, the current state of his love life was not enough; touching his favorite spots on his body and imaging that his hand was someone else's was not enough. Spending his days off lounging around in his treasured dainty pieces and pretending that he was dressed up for someone else's delight wasn't enough.  


Most of all Cor felt resolved. Resolved to continue keeping this to himself. There was no need to involve other people if they were of the same opinion as his last girlfriend. There was no need to compromise his past and future career just for this little, but potent part of himself. His work and life was legendary and that was not something he could be selfish about; he was an inspiration to his trainees and admired by many, and felt he owed them for their praises. He was also one of the few to be personally close with the Royal family and as such was expected to, in as much as possible, appear royal-like. His reputation could very well complicate the King's, a problem that Cor would rather much avoid. 

So, devoting his few days away from work solely to this secret joy of his was how Cor spoiled himself.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A glimpse into Cor's secret

Buying lingerie and lipstick for the first couple of times had been nerve wrecking for Cor despite being a man whose job often included literal brushes with death. Of course, Cor had always perfected his story for purchasing these items beforehand, and his poker face and the nonchalant sureness in his voice helped fabricate his imaginary girlfriend into existence so clearly that the sales clerks just took him for a man who had no clue or care about what these items really were, just knew that these were the colors and styles that were to be bought. As an extra precaution, he would never buy from the same store twice, and he would only go shopping one or two times a year. 

But still, even after years of undertaking these outings, he couldn't shake the thought that somehow _all_ the sales clerks just _knew_. 

_Knew_ there was no girlfriend whose birthday was just around the corner.  
_Knew_ that these woman's sizes were perfectly his size.  
_Knew_ that stockings and soft bras were some of his favorite pieces to wear.  
Knew that lipstick made the perfect contrast to his blue eyes.  
Knew that red, pink and baby-blue were his favorite colors, and that he liked to be oh-so-soft.  


Knew how hard his cock became when covered and constricted by delicate, soft lace. 

Of course, this was not something that he dwelled on as there was little to be achieved by it, but sometimes he would worry that he had not been careful enough and that perhaps his secret had somehow slipped out. 

Heels were always the worst. Never did shoe shops carry them in his size, and the one or two pairs they miraculously had were abominations in Cor's opinion. Despite his low success rate, he still went looking for heels knowing full well he would return empty-handed. After all, he could still steal a look at all the pretty heels even if he couldn't wear them. Make-up too was an awkward affair. Cor had experimented with eye shadow, but found that it did no favors for his hard, sunken eyes at all. Eyeliner and mascara he found even less enjoyable, as they were too difficult for him to apply. His much complimented cheekbones he too had tried to paint with soft blush but found it looked silly against the harshness of his beard which he, after all, did not wish to shave off. Nor did he feel that he had the patience or skills needed to improve over time in a manner that would justify buying these items despite their loveliness.

But lipstick.  
Astrals, _lipstick_.

Cor always had to make sure he wasn't smiling whenever he caught sight of a lipstick, be it in an advertisement page or in a window of a store. Pink, plum, red (of course), orange, coral, even purple; all these colors and tones that Cor never had heard of before were suddenly blooming, prized flowers in his private garden. Not only did they all look exquisite, but the soft feel of the lipsticks as they gently tug at the bits of dry skin on his lips leaving their pigment in their place; he was mesmerized every time. He didn't mind when it smeared around his mouth when he was being too clumsy with the application. Sometimes he would deliberately ruin a perfect pair of painted lips by slowly wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. He loved leaving lipstick traces on everything; coffee mugs, wine glasses, paper towels, cutlery, and so on. Cor could not explain why he adored wearing lipstick so much. There just was something magical about how a tiny splash of color could transform his face and mood that made him happy. 

He loved everything about these small, frail, yet so powerful gems; their fun and pretty packaging, their fruity or flowery scents. All these details made these precious items more fun collecting for him. Sometimes he'd see a female co-worker in the citadel or a woman in a crowd wearing a spectacular shade on her lips. He would smile to himself imaging how it would look if he went up to them and asked for the name and brand of their shade. Of course he could lie and say that it looked just like a color his girlfriend would love, but even that Cor thought must be a strange reason for a man to approach a woman for. So he would just make a mental note of the color and go hunting for it on his own. It was another little past time for the Marshall.

He had built a modest collection; numerous lipsticks, pieces of lingerie, garters, stockings, a corset even, two pairs of long gloves and other accessories, slip dresses and surprisingly five pairs of high heels that didn't hurt his feet too much. All gorgeous, all high in quality, all brought him joy. Opening his closet and seeing the petite soft colors floating in a sea of dark and sturdy uniforms and everyday clothes put him at ease.

On a rare occasion, if his work day comprised of nothing but long meetings and paper work Cor would wear one or two pieces of lingerie underneath his uniform. He would only do so when he was absolutely certain that nothing out of the ordinary would happen. Taking extra precaution Cor would wear heavy and dark clothing on these occasions, concealing any lines or shapes that might give a clue to what was hidden beneath. But after years of this little practice he had learned to relax and not let himself be consumed with paranoia, and instead got genuine enjoyment out of it whenever he allowed himself. 

It was another skill in his repertoire, an physical as well as mental exercise for him; to make sure his body language and general demeanor did not vary despite being under the influence of these pieces. To not let his mind wander or actively feel these garments despite his desire. He must still be the Marshall and stay fully focused on his tasks, even if he was allowed breaks like everyone else. At most, if surrounded by people, he would cross his arms and subtly scratch with his little fingers or thumbs in search for the thin straps of fabric that rested across his abs or chest beneath his shirt, or he would try to feel the elastic band of his thigh highs through his thick pants by pretending his thigh was itching. If he found the temptation too irresistible, he would retreat to the men's washroom to take a quick peak in the mirror, but he rarely, rarely dared to go further beyond that. 

With lipstick he was more bold; he never cared much to thoroughly remove the lipstick he had worn the night before often leaving a faint color on his lips during the day. It wasn't as jeopardizing as it was much more easier to explain away; the few times he had been asked about it he had pretended to be dumbfounded before giving a shrug of the shoulders and a slight smile as the answer. Often this was enough to let his curious inquirer convince themselves that Cor just had a pleasant night with someone without him verbally alluding to it or elaborating on it, which they all knew they could never get him to do. 

Yes, Cor granted himself some exemption from the strict rules he had imposed on himself. Sometimes, Cor did wish that someone would notice that there was more to his movements when he was being hyperaware of them, when he was toying with his pieces in plain sight. He wished that someone would know exactly what he was doing. Know that he was desperately waiting for someone to take the _hint_. Someone who would know what to do with that hint. But he never would look into anyone's eyes to search for a knowing and approving look as it was useless.  


In truth, Cor didn't know what he would do should that ever happen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter: Cor has the day off.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cor has the day off.

Cor found himself staring at the ceiling as he slowly began to wake. From the sound of the rhythmic tapping against his bedroom window he could tell that it was raining heavily outside. He paid the weather no mind as it had no effect on his present plans. 

Today Cor had the day off. 

After contemplating the clock on his nightstand that blinked 09:03 Cor lazily rose up from his bed, stretching to his full length before pulling up the curtain to take a brief look outside. His apartment overlooked Insomnia which was now a grey and sullen sight. He pulled down the curtain again. 

Stepping into the bathroom, Cor slipped out of his sweatpants and took a moment to relieve himself before running the bathtub water. He pulled out a razor and a bottle of soap from the cupboard, both items which were only put to use on these special occasions. He poured the soap in as he watched the slow rising water; it didn't foam, and it had a faint scent and color of pink roses, the sweet scent he knew would cling to him all day. On his days off, the bathtub was always the first step in his routine. Content with the temperature and volume of the now pink water Cor got in and let himself sink into the wetness as much as his bathtub would allow him; his knees were rarely submerged, but he still considered it a luxury. He studied the watery image of his naked body before closing his eyes to relax.  


After soaking for some time, Cor reached for the razor. He had tried waxing strips before as it was a quicker and more thorough method, but he preferred shaving; it too played a role in his little routine. The slow and steady repetitiveness of shaving allowed his mind to focus solely on that task, reminding him of what was to come later. One long shave after another, his legs were free of its coarse long hair. The stranded hairs floated on top of the pink water and his legs, naked and soft, shone their paleness through. Content with his shaving he ran his long fingers up and down his legs to feel their new smoothness. It was the only way to start a day at home if you asked the Marshall; a slow awakening, cleaning the body and relaxing the mind. 

No longer feeling the need Cor unplugged the tub, dried off and put on his bathrobe. Heading into the living room, he turned on the radio and began to prepare breakfast. It was rare that Cor's schedule allowed him to cook a proper meal, so having the time to chop vegetables and meat and add spices to his eggs rather than just eating them on their own as he usually did, was another luxury. Eating his breakfast Cor contemplated what to do the rest of the day and whether he was in the mood for a movie or book later. With a plan in mind, he headed back into his bedroom.  


Sometimes Cor would play a little with the pretty contents of his closet; taking out different pieces to examine or try on, or occasionally pair with the regular clothing of his wardrobe. Other times he very much already had in mind what he wanted to wear. Opening his closet, it wasn't long before Cor had set his eyes on the pieces that would adorn his body. He took out the hanger which held a baby-blue lingerie set; a garter belt with a small sheer skirt attached and matching lace thong. He couldn't help but smile at the precious affair; more precious because its color was one of his favorites. He took off his bathrobe and got dressed. It was light and airy; the garter straps dainty in their thinness, the skirt floating with every movement of his body. Opening his drawer, he took out a pair of thin white thigh highs to partner it with. Careful not to let the nylon snag on the roughness of his feet, Cor sat on the bed and gently put in his toes before rolling them up, securing them in place with the hooks of the garter at the top of his thighs. While he adored heels, Cor wouldn't wear them on if he felt they didn't match his outfit. He had considered it a miracle all those years ago when he had found a pair of light blue heels; it was an old naked pair which admittedly were a bit too small, but they were still in pristine condition. Putting them on Cor stomped lightly for a beat or two, savoring the sound they made against the floorboards. 

Next, Cor opened the locked metal box that contained his lipstick collection. He did feel that it was cruel to hide away such pretty things, but he also felt he couldn't have them lying around even if he rarely had people in his bedroom. Studying the rows of tubular cases Cor picked up the golden one containing a hot pink color; it had been a while since he last had worn it, and it would suit his outfit. He went into the hallway to use the mirror there. Save for the small one above the sink in the bathroom, it was the only one in his home, but it had the length needed for him to see most of his body. Leaning his face close to the mirror Cor focused on his lips as he painted them. Satisfied with his appearance, he took some time to stand in front of the mirror before catching his own little happy, shy smile.  


By now it was past noon and Cor set about to complete his mental to-do list, all of which were household tasks. He liked doing mundane chores in his beautified state. Soon the whole apartment had been vacuumed and dusted, a load of laundry was in the washing machine while some other clothing was ironed and folded, the mess in the kitchen from the breakfast earlier was cleaned. 

The time was now 14:56 and it was raining still.  


Cor sat down in his armchair to read yesterday's newspaper, the radio still playing in the background. He still felt like reading when he had finished with the paper and so grabbed a book out of the pile stacked on a small coffee table. He went into the kitchen again; wine was another day off requirement, another little treat that he took pleasure in. Cor had a small selection of his favorites, all of which he had stumbled upon throughout years of fancy balls and meetings that his work had required of him. He picked a bottle and opened it. With a glass of wine and the buzz of the radio to accompany him Cor sat down to read again, ever so often lifting his gaze from the words on the pages to the skirt, lace and stockings on his lower body. From time to time Cor would get up to stretch, refill his glass or go into the hallway to look at himself in the mirror. After some time he was done with the book, the bottle was emptied and a new one was opened as Cor began to prepare dinner. 

With dinner cooked and eaten, there was nothing else that needed to be done. It was getting late as well.  


Cor gave the hallway a long look before getting up from his couch and finding himself in front of the mirror again, this time with a specific intent in mind. Cor never got drunk, but occasionally he would get a good wine buzz going which in turn did bring out his playfulness. Hunching forward, he put his hands on both sides of the mirror and contemplated his reflection. He examined his face; the lighting of the hallway played off his cheekbones and bright pink lips, his expression both curious and pleased, his eyes a bit glassy from the wine. Putting two fingers to his mouth, Cor let them play with his bottom lip before slowly putting them inside, resting them on his tongue and against the roof of his mouth for a moment. The coating of saliva sticking to his fingers as he pulled them out too under the effect of the hallway lighting as it softly glistened. Standing up straight Cor adjusted his thigh highs as they had become uneven from wear. He turned to stand with his backside to the mirror as he kept adjusting his garments, eyes never leaving the blue design on his body; the straps of the garter softly dug into the flesh of his buttocks, the short sheer skirt both covering and revealing his ass. Standing on the toes of his high heels Cor bent over slightly to take a closer look; peaking through his ass cheeks he could see soft blue lace.  


It was always amazing to him how such petite pieces, so delicate in their fabrics, so soft in their colors, could have such a strong grip on his body and mind. It was mystifying how little lace was needed to remind Cor how beautiful he could be. Cor felt a slight twitch in his loins. There was something about the way the light was hitting his back; the shadows playing on his muscles and scars, something about the way it illuminated how the straps of the garter and lace hungrily clung to his ass. There was something about how it sharpen the contrast between his vivid pink lips and cold blue eyes, and the warm feeling in his body from the wine. All these factors made just standing in his hallway with a hard cock not enough. Cor could not deny his arousal anymore.  


With a steady grip Cor took the mirror off its hooks, carried it to the bedroom and placed it on the small storage box he had next to his bed. It had the perfect height as he could sit on his bed and see himself in all his glory. Sitting with legs crossed, Cor watched himself as he gently took off his heels one at the time. He gave his feet a little message before letting his hands travel up to his hips, savoring the feel of the delicate material that covered them. Sliding his hands under the skirt to hook his index fingers and thumbs under the waistband of his thong, Cor stared at the pretty mess in his lap; it was a blue and pale mixture of straps, tulle, lace, pubic hair and tell-tale wet spot of pre-cum which had easily seeped through the thin material. Cor pulled the waistband higher and gasped as the soft fabric between his ass cheeks slid against his asshole, delighting him with pleasure. He took one last look in the mirror; his legs were spread, his erection barely concealed by the lace. With closed eyes Cor dropped onto his back in one graceful, slow movement welcoming the soft embrace of the bed. 

Cor ran a hand through his short hair before letting his fingertips softly touch his eyelids, cheeks and lips; he hummed as he caressed his face. The prickly hairs of his beard scratched his palm before he moved it to his throat, letting it rest there with a light grip. Cor continued the well known exploration of his body; lazily, his other hand massaged his chest. His chest hair was not thick, but it still got caught between his fingers as they made to pinch and play with his nipples, his calloused hands feeling harsh against his soft nipples hurting slightly. Cor ran his hands down his sides while he arched his back; as they travelled their way to his thighs they lingered on abs, scars and tulle. He rested his hands on his thighs for a moment to play with the straps and nylon before pulling up the skirt for easier access. His legs were spread out. Cor palmed and groped his erection a couple of times, panting slightly as he was sensitive to the touch. The feel of lace on his cock and between his buttocks a much needed sensation, a reminder of how good it feels to let go. Soon his fingers were tangled with his pubes hidden under the lace, close to their goal.

He would always tease and touch himself like this. After all, is that not what a pretty little thing deserves?  


Feeling the lace struggle against the encroachment of his hands Cor finally pulled down his thong to free his aching cock. He set to work; one hand at the base of his cock, the other restricted by the thong as he fondled his balls. Lifting his head slightly Cor caught himself in the mirror; his right foot was pressed onto the edge of his bed. It was as much to aid his pleasure as it was to get a better view of the busy hands under the sheer skirt. The respective sounds of the radio and rain were a mere blur as Cor's attention was focused on the struggle between his nylon clad thighs. Arching his back again, his movements became faster and harder as he could feel his climax threatening its sweet reward. Cor let out a few whiny moans as he felt and watched his body come undone in the mirror. Writhing against the sensation of release, he slowly gained control of his breath and his body. With his soft cock resting in his hand, and the other still trapped under the lacy thong, Cor found himself staring at the ceiling with blank eyes and an empty feeling in his stomach.  


He could admit to feelings of shame. Masturbation is natural, but dressing up and jacking off to one's own image in the mirror? What a narcissistic weirdo one must be. No matter how good it had been, it always ended like this; Cor was content to spent his day in his most precious state and inevitably chase his ecstasy, but afterwards he would feel silly and pathetic. Spending his day off, lounging about in his favorite garments, pampering himself and making a show out of it; for what, _masturbation_? Slowly touching himself all over to pretend someone else was doing it? He should just get it over with and jack off like any other man would. Why did he have to make it into a spectacle? Cor didn't, of course; the purpose of all this was not just to come. It was sexual in nature, sure, but it was also just so innocent. 

Cor Leonis just liked to feel pretty. 

It was as simple as that. Covering himself in these gorgeous colors, fabrics and scents just amplified and cemented that feeling. But without someone there to value him and his passion he felt abashed. That was why Cor would pretend there was someone watching or touching his body. It wasn't just to get off, it was about adoration. Adoration and affirmation of his beauty and his need to feel beautiful, his need to feel precious.

After some time Cor put his fingers to his mouth and smeared the remnants of his lipstick. Holding his fingers in front of his eyes he could see a faint hint of pink under the dim lights. He got up and went to clean himself. As if nothing before had happened, Cor's mind shifted into the mechanics of pre-sleep habits; he undressed, put the sweaty little garments in the bathroom sink and got into his sweatpants. He brushed his teeth, staring down into the sink all the while. He turned off the still playing radio and put a cork in the almost empty second wine bottle. As the last task Cor grabbed the mirror and put it back in its place, avoiding his own reflection. A small bright pink stain on his lips was the only proof of what had transpired earlier as Cor went to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter: Cor's secret is exposed to Captain Drautos


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In a moment of quiet indulgence, Cor is caught.

Cor closed his umbrella as he arrived at the top of the stairs, the rain having been persistent in its sporadic downpours the last couple of weeks. He was at the Crownguard Intelligence Center to run an errand; it was a simple matter of looking over a document regarding a small Niflheim base, identify and outline its useful parts and make copies. Cor could easily have sent his secretary or another assistant to do it, but he had the time and itch in his feet to handle it himself, besides the building was near his home. It was late and most of the personnel had already left, Cor's steps echoing as he walked the long corridor towards the elevators. The document awaited him in an office on the 24th Floor. He nodded at the security guard stationed by the elevators.  
  
Entering an empty elevator, Cor set down his wet umbrella and pushed _24_. The doors closed, encasing him in a world of reflections; the walls all had a mirror surface and although not clear, the doors were reflective too, producing a slightly blurry and yellowish image of Cor under the lights. It heightened the contrast between the dark clothes on his body and the pale of his naked face. The ride would be slow, but Cor enjoyed mundane intermissions; it meant that for a moment life was quiet, quiet enough for other things than war. Cor leaned against a corner, relaxed, letting his thoughts wander as the elevator ascended.  
  
A small indicator brightened _7,_ taking Cor out of his thoughts. He straighten himself up and prepared for the new passenger waiting at the 7th floor. Another distinct _ding_ sounded, and the doors opened. The man hardly regarded Cor as he enterted, just made a note of where there was room to stand, pressed the _11_ button and resumed looking at the documents he was shifting through.

Prompted by the man's nonchalance, Cor took up his previous position in the corner, crossing his arms. He turned his head to the side, his face so close to the mirror; he scanned the small pores, wrinkles and scars of his face, noting the tiny hair follicles that were slightly irritated by his shave earlier. Looking to the indicators above the doors, Cor watched as the numbers one after another slowly lit up in the rows of light displays. The 11th floor was reached without any of the two men acknowledging each other beyond an awareness of space, the man departing as invested in his documents as he had entered. The elevator resumed its course, heading to the 24th floor without any stops indicated. Cor watched his reflection reappear on the doors as they closed, dragging him into the tiny, glossy world of mirrors once again. He let out a small hum as straighten himself up.

  
13th floor. Still no stops until his destination. A _ding_ sounded again as the elevator passed another floor.

  
Cor turned to the mirror on the right, cocked his head and let his eyes wander over his chest. He always found it hard not to make use of mirrors when he was in front of them. Sometimes it was just an quick look to make sure his clothing was in order, other times he would fixate on a specific part of his clothes or body, trying to see if something looked different, older or more tired. Of course, the fact that he was alone meant that he could be a little more shameless with his inspection. Right now he was recalling how he had looked in the morning before putting on his uniform.  
  
Cor knew that his day would be uneventful when he had woken up. He had taken it as an opportunity for some intimate indulgence. Underneath his jacket and shirt he was wearing a one-piece; a light pink mesh body with mauve details, long garter straps and press-studs crotch closure. It was one of the first pieces of lingerie he had bought, so many years ago.  
  
Staring at his reflection, Cor fiddled with his shirt which was tucked into his pants. He pulled at the trapped fabric and lifted it up slowly, just a bit; a glimpse of pink peeked out from under his black shirt. He tucked his shirt into his pants again. Cor knew that the cameras installed in the elevator were fake, decoys to instill a sense of security and order to the groups of tourists that occasionally were permitted to visit inside. Cor pondered this as there was still ten floors to go.

 

15th floor. _Ding_.

 

Cor put his hands in his pockets as he took a step back to lean against the opposite mirror. He studied his figure still. It was mesmerizing, being locked in a room of reflections. Cor could see his front, turn his head and easily see each side of himself. He could check out his backside too, if he pleased. As Cor stared, his sight wandered down to his pants, his hands slipping out of the pockets, still eager to fiddle. He could afford another, longer look, he decided. It wasn't as if he was being lewd or indecent, he just wanted to see the piece he was wearing, in this temporary private showroom. It was a chance to treasure something that he could only do at home. There was something chilling, but also freeing about the thought.  
  
Besides, no one would see or know.  
  
Cor lifted his shirt again, stopping just below his chest this time. Pink mesh with splendid mauve details came into view; his eyes followed the paths of thin silk ribbons, their decorative purpose cutting a symmetric pattern across his abs. One ran across his waist, as if clinching it. There was a dirty and used feel about this piece that Cor liked. It had been cherished; worn and lovingly hand washed in the sink countless of times, its color and elasticity both a little faded after all these years. It was a bit loose on his body and damaged as tiny holes riddled here and there, but still Cor couldn't make himself get rid of it. The tiny details were too precious to let go. If Cor lifted his jacket too, he could see the exposed skin of his back, see the small scars and old wounds, but in every direction it was the pink and mauve one-piece body that caught his eye; it was the shining star in the elevator space, commanding his eyes to its magic.  
  
Everywhere Cor looked he could see beauty.

  
  
17th floor. _Ding_.

  
  
Feeling safe and bold, Cor held up the shirt with his teeth, letting the pink one-piece emerge fully into view. The ribbons continued their symmetric paths upwards, outlining the soft cups, his chest hair unruly above the mauve lace trimmings that adorned them. A tiny bow rested at the plunge of the cups, centered right on his heart. Originally there had been underwire, but Cor having no need for it had removed it. As he pulled both shoulder straps to adjust them he wondered, as he had wondered many times before, how haven't they _still_ snapped? They were thin and crossed paths on his back, Cor could feel them cut into his skin as he pulled them. Yes, there were many memories attached to this particular pink piece Cor mused; he was happy that he had chosen to wear it today.  
  
Letting both hands glide down his front to the top of his pants, he gripped the waistband with a thumb and put a finger through a belt loop, allowing his other hand to squeeze into his pants. His fingers soon found what they were searching for; the start of a long garter strap. He began to pull it out of its confinement with some difficulty, the slack strap becoming taut each time he pulled it, only moving up his thigh a little at a time. Finally, it was free, resting in his palm; a tiny pink bow just above its golden hook, slightly crushed. Sometimes the tiniest details were the most beautiful, precious to Cor. He tinkered with end of the strap, smiling at the tiny thing; shirt still held up with his teeth.

  
  
20th floor. _Ding_.

  
Before Cor could react the doors opened.

  
He pulled down his shirt and tried to collect himself as fast as he could, but he could tell by the surprised expression on the man's face he had been too late.  
  
"Marshal," Captain Drautos announced, regarding Cor with a raised eyebrow as he entered the elevator.  
  
"Captain," Cor swallowed so hard his throat hurt, his voice was dry and feeble. _Oh fuck, what have you done Cor?_  
  
As Titus pushed a button on the wall, Cor quickly looked up to compose himself, tears pushing at the corners of his eyes, hoping Titus wouldn't see it. The ceiling was reflective as well, Cor just noticed.

The Captain stood by his side, facing towards the same view as Cor. As the doors closed, their darkly clad, blurry reflections emerged into view. Only their faces were bright against the elevator light, illuminating their expressions. They stood in the same pose; hands behind their backs, backs straight. Cor felt a cold chill run down his spine as he noticed his disheveled look; his shirt wasn't tucked in, his jacket not covering the wrinkles and creases that were apparent down the front. But Cor felt he couldn't do anything about it, if he tried to fix his clothes now, it would only be a confirmation that he had been caught. Cor felt faint. He couldn't tell if his reflection always had been _this_ blurry or if it was his vision. His palms and neck were sweaty.  
  
"Did I interrupt something, Marshal?"  
  
Between the small space of the elevator and Cor's heighten senses, Titus' voice seemed amplified, booming in the Marshal's ears. There was no harsh or mocking tone to detect in Titus' voice; it was as relaxed and neutral as ever, as if they were having an idle chat. Cor couldn't tell whether Titus was curious or concerned. He didn't care either way. He didn't respond.  
  
"I suppose you weren't expecting the doors to open.. It is a little faulty, this elevator. It doesn't always signal its stops." the taller man said matter-of-factly. As if it was any help to Cor now.

Cor unable to speak for fear of how shaky his words would sound, even if a one-word reply would suffice, just gave a slow nod, knowing Titus was watching him in the reflective doors.

  
22nd Floor. _Ding._

  
Cor kept staring forwards. He didn't dare to look anywhere else. He had picked a point, just below his own chin, to rest his heavy eyes on. His Adam's apple seemed so large whenever he swallowed. He tried not to, of course, but his mouth and throat were so dry. He tried to keep as still as he could, feeling that with any movement he would risk revealing his actual emotional state. All he could do was stand still and wait, as one does when in an elevator.  
  
Cor felt that he had failed as he could feel a drop of sweat spill from behind his ear down his neck.  
  
Titus turned towards him, lowering his head, it was clear that he was studying something on Cor's body. Cor watched the scene unfold in the doors as if in slow motion, the captain's mouth moving. For a third time, Titus opened his mouth.

  
"That's a _lovely_ pink strap you got hanging out from under your shirt, Marshal."

  
Cor kept his gaze forward, feeling a prickliness in his eyes.  
  
Cor didn't react, or rather, he didn't react outwards. Inside, he was aware of the weird sensation that consumed his body, that both numbed and stung him. He was suddenly horrified at how exposed he felt when he looked at his own face; any trace of his distress would appear clear on his severely pale face, the elevator lights acting as a spotlight. Of course Cor knew what the Captain was talking about without looking where he was looking.  
  
In his haste to pull down his shirt, the pink garter strap with its tiny delicate bow remained dangling freely, careless and _damning_ from his side.  
  
Cor didn't speak or move his head to acknowledge Titus' words, but instead soundlessly took the strap in one hand and lifted his shirt just enough with the other, stuffing away the pesky long little pink thing. Cor clasped his hands behind his back again, this time raising his arms high so that his fists almost rested between his shoulder blades. It was the pose he knew so well, the pose that commanded both respect and trust, the pose that signaled that he was Marshal Cor Leonis, ready, willing and able to fulfil his duties, no matter the task or impossibility. Back straight, chest out, head held high; Cor looked as if ready for orders, ready for fight. All Cor really was ready for was to escape.

Titus kept regarding him with a neutral expression on his face. Cor kept an unrelenting stare on the doors.  
  
He didn't want to have to acknowledge the man beside him. It would be an acknowledgment of what had happened. An acknowledgment that what must never happened, _happened_. An acknowledgment that he had slipped and his secret had been exposed. _What the fuck have you done, Cor?_

  
24th Floor. There it was. The suddenly long awaited, final _ding_.  
  
  
It was as if he had held his breath under water and now he was coming up for air. The single note kept ringing in his ears; the signal Cor had trusted without question. Now it was the signal of his interrupted intimate moment, the betraying mistress of missed light display that he knew he could not blame. He could only blame himself.  
  
Cor fled as soon as the doors allowed him.


End file.
